


213 - Tagging Along to a Catfish Recording Weekend in the Woods

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 18:09:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17391176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompts “the whole gang is going to a cabin on a lake to relax and record some new tunes! Van invites reader cos she’s one of their tour photographers (she’s kinda like an old friend bc she’s been around since the early days) but it’s really just an excuse to see her because he likes her. Basically cute and funny camping CATB!! Bonus: the guys making fun of Van relentlessly for having a huge elementary school crush.” and “Yn and van get drunk and watch a movie together but yn feels an emotional thing from the movie and gets really sad and cries about it inconsolably even though it’s not a big deal. In the morning Van teases her for it and it gets fluffy” and “a fic where the girl is more dominant and where Van i more in love with the girl then she is with him?”





	213 - Tagging Along to a Catfish Recording Weekend in the Woods

Because it had been your idea, you'd been invited. On the top of a building looking out over the city, you sat sharing a joint with Bondy, your legs hanging over the edge. Trust him to know his way onto the roofs of skyscrapers.

"So Van just writes it all and the guys play what he writes?" you asked.

"Nah… uh… kinda… He writes the lyrics and usually has a bit of a melody. Says it's like he draws the outline and we all come in and colour the picture," Bondy replied.

"What would happen if you tried to write together from the start?"

He chuckled to himself. "Van would probably implode. He writes every day. Larry says that he literally goes all fuckin' zombie and spaces out and shit. But, it's funny you should say that. We was thinkin' 'bout trying something like that for the next record,"

"Yeah? You should totally rent a mansion in the middle of some forest or something like that. Do we still talk to that guy that knows that guy with the house on the lake?"

And that was it. You got a call a couple of weeks later saying yes, it turned out Bondy did still talk to the guy that knew the guy with the house on the lake. All four point five members of Catfish would stay there for a couple of weeks, see if anything creative and worthwhile came of it. Because it had been your idea, you'd been invited. Well, that is what excuse they were all going with. Nobody thought to tell you that it had more to do with Van's crush on you that he'd been harbouring since meeting you years ago. You had spent a couple of nights taking photos of them on tour for the magazine you worked for at the time. You'd stayed in touch, especially with Bondy, and with each night out and each day in front of the television, you'd fallen more and more in love with them all.

…

When you arrived at the house everyone else was already there. Rooms had been claimed, but you'd been given the master suite. Nobody knew why, but regardless, you were happy to have a little balcony that looked out over the forest and lake. You could keep an eye on the guys on the deck below, but go and retreat to your own space if needed. There was an ensuite with a bath sat under a giant window. From the outside of the house, it looked like an oversized cabin. On the inside, it was the dream house but somehow maintain its rustic charm. You were in love with it instantly.

After unpacking, you found the guys in the huge lounge room. It was almost dinner and they were deciding what to do about it. Wine had been poured, and when you walked into the room, Van stood and poured you a glass without having to ask if you preferred red or wine.

"Does that fireplace work?" you asked as you took a seat and pulled a pillow into your lap. Van handed you the wine glass and sat close next to you.

"Don't know," Bondy replied, looking over. "If we can have fire, we should try for fire."

Bob made a sound of uneasiness. Benji laughed 

"Drinking and fire. Sounds like good craic," Larry said.

"You want it on?" Van asked you. You nodded and smiled, and he was up and figuring it out. "Saw a stack of wood 'round the side before. Someone go get some."

They all called shotgun at the same time.

"Y/N. Call it," Bondy instructed.

"Honestly? I think you were a second behind. Then Larry."

As they left the room Bob and Benji high-fived and settled into their seats. You listened to their conversation as you watched Van try to get the fire started. He seemed frustrated. Bondy and Larry returned quickly, piling wood next to Van. 

"Van. If it doesn't work, that's okay," you said. The others looked over at him, all smirks and glances at each other.

"Yeah, mate, you can prove you can do basic caveman skills to her another time, yeah?" Bondy said. Van shot him a look.

"I've almost got it," he mumbled into the darkness of the cold fireplace and returned to the task.

A couple of minutes later, Van almost set the room on fire. He'd used too much of whatever fuel he had, and when it all sparked up, it started to burn fast.

"Fuck, fuck," he said, standing quickly and stepping back. The others laughed and made no move to help. "Um," Van said, turning around.

"You should control that," Benji suggested.

You stood and picked the fire iron up off the mantle. You pushed the wood back into the fire and quickly swept up the burning ash and dumped it into the flames. Standing next to Van, you both watched it burn safely. You bumped your shoulder against his arm.

"Did good. Thank you," you whispered.

"No problem."

Benji made spaghetti bolognaise for everyone and as you sat eating your way through an incredibly large bowl of pasta, you listened to them fight for the right to pick a record. Your back was to the arm of the chair, and you were sitting cross-legged. Van was sharing the couch, sitting near the middle with his feet up on the coffee table. He glanced over at you, bowing out of the musical fight.

"You're being quiet. You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah. I just really like spaghetti. It's a romantic food," you replied with a shrug. He laughed a little.

"How's it romantic? It's messy. Look at Larry." 

You looked over. Larry had his face covered in the sauce and he clearly didn't give a fuck. He grinned wide at you.

"Shameless," you said to him.

"Always," he replied. Back to Van, you explained. "You know Lady and the Tramp? The dogs eat the spaghetti and they do the thing." Van looked at you with a blank expression.

"You haven't seen that?" Benji asked, overhearing. Van shook his head.

"Hasn't seen what?" Bondy asked.

"The Lady and the Trump spaghetti scene," Benji replied.

"Did you grow up under a rock, mate?" Bondy laughed.

"In a cupboard, right?" Larry added.

"What's the scene?" Van asked, looking around the room and back to you.

"Oh my gosh. You're so confused. Here, I'll show you," you said, picking up a long piece of spaghetti. You moved your bowl to the table and sat closer to Van. "Put the end of this in your mouth," you ordered. Van's eyebrows pulled together, but he would have done anything you said. Connected by the pasta, you started to suck as Benji narrated.

"So the dogs are eating from the same bowl and they're on a dog date, and they're looking in opposite directions when they both pick up this one piece of spaghetti. Then, they eat through it and they, like, dog kiss, with their noses."

Van started to eat too and you met in the middle. He grinned as you sucked the pasta from him and ate the last of it, rubbing your nose against his, then returning to your place on the couch, bowl back in your lap.

"See. Romantic!"

"Concerned that you're gettin' your romance from a movie about dogs, Y/N," Bondy said.

"Wasn't that on an official list about most romantic scenes of all time?" Bob asked.

"See!" you cried between another mouthful of pasta.

As the conversation went on, nobody seemed to notice how shaken Van was. He stayed quiet and tried to work out how to breathe again. He only really moved when you ran out of wine and he went to get you more.

Everyone slept on their lounge room couches and arm chairs that first night, too drunk to move, and too warm and happy to fight the haze. You fell asleep with your head resting against Van's side as he sat up still wide awake. A lightweight, you were the first out.

…

A few days went by in much the same way. Too much booze and food and sleeping. Not enough writing. It wasn't your problem though; your only objective was to have a good time. And that, you did.

Day four brought with it clear skies and warm breeze. You woke up to the sounds of yelling. Out on your balcony, you watched the guys throw each other into the lake. You considered changing into swimwear, but if it was cool enough to wear jeans, it wasn't warm enough to get in the water. You walked through the house and down to the lake. Benji and Bondy were sitting on the grass, also fully clothed. You sat next to them.

"Not getting in?" Benji asked.

"Bit cold,"

"Yeah. They're madmen," Bondy agreed.

You watched Bob and Larry gang up on Van in the water. They almost drowned him twice. You momentarily forgot that they were adults, mid-twenties and with actual lives outside of the happy bubble of the little holiday.

"Gonna go for a walk around the lake," you said, standing. "Find a tree to climb,"

"Wait, Y/N!" Van called. He pulled himself up onto the little dock. "You can stay and climb this tree. Watch," he said. Everyone stopped to watch Van climb a tree that was close by. He walked across a branch that hung over the water with grace. "See!"

"Ryan. Stop showing off. You're going to hurt yourself!" Bondy yelled in a creepy impression of a mother. You laughed but followed Van's path up the tree.

Standing next to him on the branch, you said, "Always really liked climbing trees,"

"Never did it much as a kid," he replied, looking down into the water. "Didn't think 'bout how I'd get down from here,"

"Back the way we came," you said, then looked down the tree and realised what Van had. That would be an impossible task.

"Guess we'll have to jump," he said.

"No. I’m not getting in the water. You jump and go find a ladder or something." Van laughed and shook his head. "Van, I'm not jumping. I can't,"

"You can. It's not far. I'll go first,"

"No. I can't. Seriously," you said again, a panic in your voice that Van could hear. His smile dropped.

"Thought you always liked climbing trees? Usually get stuck?" he asked. He wasn't being mean or funny; he was just genuinely confused 

"Yeah. Okay. I know. Usually plan a little better than this." He nodded and looked at you for a second, then two. Nobody else was much interested in what you and Van were doing in the tree.

"I'll be back for you," Van whispered, then he just stepped off the branch. The others cheered when he hit the water and when he resurfaced with a goofy fist pump to the air. You watched him swim to the dock and pull himself onto it again. He waved to you then walked off.

Bondy wandered under the tree and looked up at you. "Stuck?" he asked. You nodded, carefully sitting down on the branch. "What's Van doing?"

"Finding a ladder for me," you answered.

Bondy snorted. "Course he fuckin' is," he said.

When you were safely back on the ground, you hugged Van even though he was still dripping with lake water.

…

On the second Friday night, day eight, you sunk to the bottom of the bathtub under the window with a glass of wine in hand. You watched the sunset pink turn to royal blue. The stars had never seemed so bright. When your glass was empty you reached out for your phone. Bondy picked up after three rings.

"Hey. Bring me more wine?" you asked.

"Such a fuckin' lightweight, Y/N. I'm not there? Remember. We went into town to pick up supplies."

You giggled, maybe at your lack of recollection, or the fact that Bondy considered smokes, wine, and milk 'supplies.'

"Wait… Did you all go? When? Wasn't that ages ago?"

"Went in about three. Stayin' for dinner. Pub here ain't bad. Van stayed back, unsurprisingly. Call him if you need anything. Why do you need wine? Where are you? Stuck up another tree?" he asked with a laugh.

"I'm in the bath. Fuck you," you said and hung up. You knew he'd like the drama of that. Bondy would tell the others what you'd wanted, and they'd all place bets on how fast Van would trip up the stairs to deliver wine to you. You had missed the 'unsurprisingly' in Bondy's sentence, or maybe you'd just decided you'd missed it.

Finding Van's name in your contact list, you called. He picked up after two rings.

"Wha's up, Y/N?" he said, his voice slurred. He'd been drinking too.

"Can you please bring me wine? I only did a glass and it's not enough," you asked him.

"Did a glass," he repeated with a snort. "Yeah. Where are ya?"

"Bath. There's bubbles. Don't worry."

Within a few minutes, Van knocked on your bedroom door and failed to wait for a response. He walked into the ensuite with his own full wine glass and a bottle.

"My hero," you joked as he poured to the brim. He smiled and went to leave. "Why'd you not go with the others?" He leant against the doorframe and looked at you. You stared back as you sipped wine.

"Was gonna try to write," he said.

"Isn't the point of this trip to write together?"

"Yeah… And I am. Still gotta write everything I think though. Not all of it comes out as lyrics,"

"You write other stuff?" you asked as you sat up a little, pulling bubbles closer to your body. Van nodded. "Huh. I didn't know that. What else don't I know about you?" His cheeks were going pink. He shrugged. You narrowed your eyes at him. "Can I read the writing?"

"You wanna read my journal?"

"You call it a journal?" you asked with a giggle. Van smiled.

"Yeah? So?"

"Nothing. That's cute. Can I read your journal?"

"No," he replied bluntly, still smiling. You pouted.

"Please? It will be fun. We can get drunk and you can get in the bath with me and I'll give you good feedback,"

"You're already drunk and you'll just drop it in the fuckin' water," he said. You dramatically huffed, then disappeared under the water, holding your breath. You waited as long as you could, then slowly re-emerged. Van was gone.

When your glass was empty for the second time you considered calling him again, but like he was spying from somewhere, he was back knocking on your door and walking through. He was dragging a chair behind him and he sat on it with his feet on the edge of the bathtub. He poured more wine for you from the bottle he was holding and took a swig from it himself.

"Okay," he said, opening a book that had been tucked under his arm. "If I read some of this to you, and you fuckin' laugh, I swear to God-"

"I won't. I promise I won't," you assured him, holding your wine glass close. You brought your knees up to your chest and watched him closely.

"I'm gonna get you drunk enough that you won't remember anyway,"

"I never forget stuff when I'm drunk,"

"Yeah. We'll see. Anyway. Drink," he said, nodding to the glass.

You did what you were told. You drank and listened quietly as Van recited lyrics and poems and little pieces of things he wasn't quite sure about. He explained the stories and the choices of words to you, and it was hard to not wonder why he was doing it. It was personal, painfully so at some points. And, as he stopped topping your glass up and started drinking more, any walls he had left slowly started to come down.

After an hour and a bit, you were sitting in cold bath water with no bubbles for protection. All that was between you and nakedness was your strategically placed arms and folded legs. Van had gone quiet, rocking on his chair and staring out the window. It was unsettling to see someone so bubbly so placid.

"I wanna get out the bath now," you whispered. Slowly, not moving his gaze from outside, he nodded. "If you're gonna sit there all weird, that's okay but can you close your eyes for a minute?"

He looked to you, then nodded again. Eyes closed. You weren't being serious. You were kicking him out the room, but he was too drunk to read that, and you were too drunk to care. You stepped out the bath and dried yourself. In the bedroom, you got into track pants and a t-shirt. Standing on the border between one room and the next, you watched Van rock with eyes closed for a second or two.

"Come on," you said, still whispering. "I wanna watch a movie. Come with me."

Van looked up at you, then stood, leaving his journal on the chair and following you from the room silently.

In the living room you sorted through the collection of DVDs stacked next to the television.

"I'm sorry to say but almos’ all of these are romantic comedies," you said sadly. "I hate romantic comedies, but this one’s got Shane West in it and I think I used to have a crush on him, so le’s go with that."

You collapsed on top of Van on a couch, pulling a blanket over you. He stayed quiet, but wrapped an arm around you, holding you tight.

A Walk to Remember was better than you had predicted or wanted it to be. Very engaged, you hardly spoke at all throughout the film. It wasn't until you started sniffling that Van moved.

"Are you… crying?"

"No," you said, but it came out as a whine.

"I can feel your tears through my shirt,"

"So? It's sad. She's dying!"

"It's a movie,"

"Why are you being so mean?" you asked, sitting up and looking at him. He laughed and shook his head. "I'm serious. I know it's a movie but stuff like this happens all the time,"

"Like…"

"Like people fall in love and it's doomed from the start and people fuckin' die and it's always the good people that deserve better and-" but you started to really cry before you could say anything more. You crawled off Van, but he pulled you back close, sitting up so he could hold you in his lap. He pulled the blanket around you and rocked you gently.

"Okay. Yeah. I'm sorry. It's sad," he said, making small hushing sounds. "It's okay," he whispered, kissing the top of your head.

You were drunk and overacting and a mess, but Van loved you anyway.

When you were settled again, Van kept running his hand up and down your back and kissing the top of your head. You fell asleep. Somehow, you slept through the guys returning from town, crashing their way into the house. You slept through Bondy leaning over the couch and laughing at you and Van. You slept through Bob taking photos of your passed out frames wrapped around each other.

In the morning, with thick hangovers and sour tasting mouths, you sprung apart.

"Fuck, I need to pee," you said and ran from the room. Van walked outside for a smoke and some probable reflection on heartache.

In your bathroom you were reminded of the night before. You'd not lied; you didn't black out events, but for a moment you forgot that Van sat in the kitchen chair next to the bath and poured his soul out to you. After brushing your teeth and washing your hands and face, you picked up the journal Van had left behind and carried it downstairs like it was as precious as a newborn baby. You made tea and carried the two mugs out onto the deck. Van took one and you sat on the step next to him.

"Left this in my room."

He took it and flicked through it. Putting it down next to him and sipping his tea, he nodded.

"Are you gonna ask if I read it?" you asked.

"No. You didn't,"

"No, I didn't. I could have,"

"You're better than that," he said looking over at you. "I mean… you have meltdowns about stupid fuckin' movies, but you're still a good person."

You laughed. "Please don't tell Bondy about that,"

"Tell me about what?" Bondy asked, walking out and sitting on the other side of you. The smell of his instant coffee made your stomach flip.

"Confessed her undying love for you last night when she was off her face," Van replied.

"Yeah. Like, John… I think we should get married here, you know? This place has made me feel so close to you," you said in a complete monotone. Bondy stood.

"Keep ya fuckin' secrets, you fuckin' weirdos." He walked back inside. You looked over and grinned at Van.

"Thank you,"

"No problem."

…

In the days following your starry night with Van, you would both gravitated to wherever the other was. If he was writing on the deck, you'd sit opposite and read. If he was watching the television, stretched out on the couch, you'd go and lay on the carpet, letting his hand reach down and pat your hair aimlessly. When you would go for walks through the forest with Bob, Van would trail along behind you, carrying your water bottle and a hoodie in case you got cold. Each night you'd find reasons to stay up. Van dreaded saying goodnight and listening to your bedroom door close. You had no idea what you were feeling or why you were spending so much time around him. There wasn't even a conscious awareness of any of it; at least, not until Bondy brought it to your attention.

You were napping on your bed Tuesday afternoon. The sun pouring in through the open French doors warmed the quilt, and when you laid in its path, it warmed your skin the same way. Bondy waltzed into the room after a mediocre attempt at knocking. He threw himself down next to you.

"So… you know why you were invited to come here, right?" he asked.

"Yeah, 'cause it was my idea," you mumbled a reply, turning away from him. He pulled the pillow from under your head. You sat up quickly and snatched it back.

"Nope," he replied, the P popping. He grinned. You rolled your eyes and laid back down, facing him though. He was cycling through too many amusing expression to miss.

"Alright. Why am I here?"

"Also, I've noticed you and Van have been in each other's pockets a lot. What's with that?"

You sighed. "I wouldn't say that,"

"Well… you can not say it but it's true. Ever since Friday you do everything together. You guys both fit in the shower, or have you been using your bath?"

He was right. It was suddenly apparent to you.

"You guys are like, mean to each other, but you're all extra mean to him. Like he's the baby brother or something. Why?" you asked. Bondy grinned and rolled onto his back.

"Gotta keep the kid level headed somehow,"

"He thinks about everything more than you give him credit for,"

"Yeah? How do you know? You read his journal?" Bondy joked. You should have laughed or said something. Instead, your silence elicited a snort from him. "You read his fucking journal?!"

"No. He read some of it to me,"

"Of course he fucking did!"

"What do you want? Seriously?!" you asked, sitting up and looking at him.

"You ain't here 'cause it was your idea, Y/N. You're here 'cause Van begged me to invite you. The guy’s been fuckin' obsessed with you for ages. Always thought you might get together, but you didn't hang out with him like we did, you know? So I figured you didn't like him much. But you do. Can see it in ya face. He probably loves you, and I don't know how you feel. But at the very least, you like him. Just came up to ask if you were gonna do anything about it?"

Bondy played with his lighter while he waited for you to snap out of your shock. You laid back down.

"Why do I have to do anything about it?"

"Uh, you said he read you his fuckin' journal? And he watched that God awful movie? Your turn, yeah?"

You made a sound that was halfway between a sigh and a growl of discontent.

…

There was only the weekend left, then you'd all return to the real world. To traffic and bills and alarm clocks. No more forest walks and open fireplaces and endless glasses of wine. And, if you didn't make a move, no more Van.

It was a Saturday night and Van had disappeared outside for a smoke. Everyone was back in the living room, drinking and laughing over made up card games. You met Bondy's eyes across the room, and he raised one eyebrow. You looked away and could feel the nervous energy in you. Quietly, you slipped from the room, grabbing your hoodie as went.

Van was sitting on the step. When you sat down next to him, his arm went around you automatically. You rested your head on his shoulder.

"I don't wanna go home," you said.

"Yeah. You're better at this isolation stuff than me. Think I'm going a bit mental," he replied. You nodded into him. "I have loved it here but. It's dead nice, sittin' out here with a smoke, listening to them birds, you know? Think we got some good tunes out of it too. Was a good idea to come out here. Thanks, for that,"

"Obviously just thought it up for the invite."

When his smoke was burnt though, neither of you moved. The night was cool, but not cold. A sweetness in the air, the forest's flowers, was pushed in by the waves of the lake. The sound of which had provided the soundtrack of your time at the house.

"We leave early in the morning, right?" you asked him. He nodded. "Yeah, so… One more forest walk? Just us?" You stood and held a hand out. Van grinned, dimples and all, and threaded his fingers through yours.

"Should we tell the others?" he asked as you headed off down the path.

"Nah. Think Bondy's probably gonna figure it out, yeah?" you replied, looking over your shoulder at Van.

You knew the way through the forest to the other side of the lake by heart. In the darkness it was a little harder to navigate, but your heart was racing and you needed it to be because of the pace you were keeping rather than the hand you were holding. You only slowed when Van pulled at your arm.

"Not a race, Y/N. Where you running to?"

"Sorry," you replied, a little breathless.

"You okay?" he asked. You nodded. Gently, he pushed hair away from your face. "Want a piggyback?" You grinned before you could contain it. "Yeah, she does! Come on," he instructed.

The rest of the way to the other side Van carried you, making random neighing sounds every time you went too quiet. Each, sounding less and less horse-like as they went on, made you laugh.

In the clearing, Van let you slide off his back and onto the ground. You sunk to the grass and sat on your knees. Van followed you down, his legs out flat in front of him.

"How do waves happen on a lake?" you asked him.

"Don't know. Same as the ocean?"

"Nah. Can't be. Aren't ocean waves like, because of currents?"

"I honestly don't know, love." He laid back with his arms behind his head. You looked down at him. He moved one arm and opened it to you. "Come on." You laid down and rested your head on his chest, and he wrapped his arm around you.

"If I ask you something will you tell me the truth?" you whispered.

"Have I lied to you before?"

"I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe you do know how lake waves happen,"

"I really don't. Ask ya question," Van laughed.

"Bondy said I was invited here 'cause you wanted me to come. Is that true?" you asked, expecting a pause and a thought through answer. Instead, immediately-

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Sure he told you that too. When did you guys talk?"

"Um… Tuesday? Yeah. Tuesday. I was napping,"

"Right. So, since then…"

"Yeah, I know. I don’t know what I'm doing either," you replied before he could fill in the blanks.

"Do you know what you're doing now?"

You chewed your lip as you considered the question, then sat up to look at him. Van sat up too, watching you right back. Words weren't forming because they had no cohesive thoughts to anchor to. Nothing tangible to express. Instead, you were all emotion and unplaced energy, ready to burst if you didn't do something. So, you did.

As soon as your lips pressed to his, he was pushing you into the grass and kissing you back hard. For you, it was days in the making, for him, years. You giggled as he kissed a line down your neck.

"Stop laughin' at me," he mumbled into you.

"Your hair is ticklin' me!" you squealed, but pulled him closer anyway, letting his hands move where they wanted and his lips do the same. "We've got time, you know." Van shook his head. "No? We don't? Why? You dying like Mandy Moore?" He chuckled and looked up at you.

"No. We leave tomorrow, but,"

"So? You think I just stop liking you when we get home?"

He grinned and poked your sides. "You liiiiiiiiiiike me?" he asked, voice high pitched and amused.

"Sometimes. Think I needed to see that weird brooding version of you to know for sure. You're not all rainbows and sunshine, huh?" you said, poking him back. He smiled and pulled you from the ground to stand with him.

"Don't really know what I am,"

"I do. You're good. And I like it. I like you," you said.

"I like you too. Heaps,"

"Yeah, I've heard… Come on though. It didn't seem so cold out on the deck but I'm fucking freezing. This was a dumb idea. Let's go back."

Through the forest hand in hand, the lights of the house finally came into view.

"I wanna get super drunk again," you told Van as you climbed the steps.

"Okay,"

"Will you look after me? Let me sleep in your bed?" you asked, looking back at him. He was already watching you with a grin. He nodded. "Good."

In the lounge room you sat with Van on the couch. You thought you'd get away with nobody saying anything, that everyone would just be lowkey.

"So… you guys fuckin' now or what?" Bondy asked with no tact and all trouble.


End file.
